1986. My future wife Patricia and I are in New York. We want to see a movie. The New York Times recommends a new comedy, She’s Gotta Have It, by a new director. The theatre is a few blocks north of our hotel, just past the Army recruiting office. A small single screen. The director, Mr. Lee himself, bobs up and down on the curb in front, selling and signing t-shirts. He is wiry. Energetic. A happy huckster. Being a romantic, I buy a t-shirt for my future wife. She wears it for years until its print fades away. I am fairly confident that we were the only white people in the theatre. Certainly, the only Canadians. The movie kills. The audience roars at recognition. We don’t get all the jokes – half the jokes? We really enjoy the film except for the clunky colour dance sequences. 2016. Thirty years later. Patricia and I are in Los Angles. We read that Mr. Lee will be at Book Soup signing special anniversary moleskins celebrating his 30 years of filmmaking. We find him behind a foldout table and a pile of books. He is thin. Tired. Put upon.
He does not want to hear anything from us. About our long-ago weekend in New York. He just does his duty and signs the moleskins. He is done with signing swag.
By James Nadler
